


young and sweet, only seventeen

by burntheretoo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, I Love the Losers Club (IT), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, and they love each other, —but they’re both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 20:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntheretoo/pseuds/burntheretoo
Summary: For the past few years, Eddie’s viewed his birthday as something he just had to get through rather than enjoy. But now that he was turning 17, his friends decided fuck that, we’re going to throw you a party.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	young and sweet, only seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> just a cute lil’ one shot for my bby val who turned 17 a few days ago. love you honey!! <3

When Eddie Kaspbrak was 13, he made a deal with his mother, sitting on a hospital bed. She’d already thrown his friends out of the room, even though they’d only stopped by to make sure he was okay. A bully had broken his arm in two, a bully they had all frequently encountered. It was the first time in Eddie’s life he’d felt real, physical pain. It was strangely liberating. He’d finally understood what Mr. Keene was talking about. He’d finally understood all the sad looks Mr. Keene would give him on his way out of the pharmacy.

His mother had been lying to him all his life. He wasn’t weak, not at all. And seeing the way she’d obnoxiously discarded his friends, the people who loved him, like garbage, it was easy to understand that it wasn’t _for his own good_. Like she had always said. _(He doesn’t want your so-called friendship anymore! Any of you! I knew it would lead to trouble, and look at this! My Eddie in the hospital! A boy as delicate as he is…)_

After that, it was really easy to say what he wanted to say. And he wanted to make a deal. If he did what she asked, if he listened to what she said, if he took the pills he was prescribed, he would be able to see his friends. She tried to cry, to trick him, but it didn’t work. So she agreed.

So he went to school with his inhaler like he still needed it. He sat on the bleachers during gym like it didn’t hurt to see his classmates run around and have fun. He stopped at the pharmacy on his way home every Monday and Thursday like the sound of the bell above the door didn’t make him want to cry in the bathroom. He didn’t question it, he never called her out, he always just did what she said.

It was worth it, though, because when he was with his friends, he forgot about all of it. He forgot about the weight he felt walking into his own home. His friends lifted that weight off of his shoulders just with an afternoon at the movie theater. It was worth it when he could spend all day with Mike in his barn, feeding the lambs and sitting on hay bales. He wanted to waste his time with Ben, Stan, and Bill in Pete’s diner, loading up on french fries and milkshakes. He would risk it just to hang with Beverly on the rooftop of her aunt’s house; to hear her tell him crazy stories that he was gullible enough to believe were true. He would never miss out on the opportunity to stay up late with Richie, under the covers, feeling a sense of accomplishment every time he got him to laugh.

It was something he knew his mother was intimidated by. This is why there was one exception: he had to spend his birthday with her. Which didn’t seem very fair to him. He’d grown to believe that you were supposed to get excited over your birthday, and he used to, but not anymore. Instead of it being a day he couldn’t wait for, it was a day he couldn’t wait for to be over. Because it was filled with, _“Oh, honey, isn’t this just great? Just the two of us. Why spend time with anyone else? When it could just always be us?”_ and he would think, _“thanks mom, but that sounds like the most unappealing offer ever.”_ It was nothing genuine or sincere. Just one big guilt trip. 

So for the past few years, Eddie’s viewed his birthday as something he just had to _get through_ rather than enjoy. But now that he was turning 17, his friends decided _fuck that, we’re going to throw you a party._

It was supposed to be a surprise, but Bill spilled the beans not even two hours after planning. _(“I know, sorry, just- please pretend to be surprised. I-I-I promised I wouldn’t tell and they’ll k-k-kill me.” “Help me practice my surprise-face then, idiot.”)_ Since his birthday fell on a Wednesday, they planned the party on the following Saturday _(to steer clear of all of Richie’s Friday the 13th jokes)_ so they could be home on Sunday, before church.

They decided that Richie’s house was the best location since Saturday night was movie night anyway and Richie had a big television in his even bigger basement. Plus, Maggie and Went were more than willing to let Eddie celebrate his birthday under their roof, the way he wanted. The plan was: Mike would call Eddie at 4 p.m. and ask him to come over while the others got the party ready. Since Eddie was already aware of what was going on, he found it amusing to see Mike stumble over his words and make up excuses. _(“Why can’t we invite Stan?” “Oh-er-um, h-he’s...I already talked to him. Nothing really, he just...his um...his fish is sick.”)_

Mike was able to “stall” until Beverly called him, initiating the second part of their plan. When the sun started to set, Mike asked Eddie if he wanted ice cream. Eddie said okay. Mike asked him if he wanted Richie to come along. Eddie said yes. Mike told Eddie to hop in his truck and Eddie did. So they drove down a brick road that led to Richie’s house with Mike’s father’s cassette in the car, playing old-person music. Eddie found it surprising since Mike’s parents were probably the youngest old people he’s ever met.

Driving down Richie’s street was always bizarre since he was the only one of them who lived on the wealthy side of town. It was just green trees and new-looking houses one after the other like someone kept pressing ‘copy and paste’. And riding up the street on his bike really hurt his hands, which is why he’d always sit on the back of Richie’s, with his arms wrapped around his torso. Just because riding a bike on a brick road hurts his knuckles That’s it, really. No other reason. 

As they pulled up to Richie’s house, the smile on Mike’s was becoming more apparent. Eddie fidgeted with his fingers in his lap, chuckling to himself.

“Why don’t we just ask him to meet us there? He’s a big boy, he can drive himself.” Eddie asked, trying to get any reaction out of Mike.

“M-Might as well walk in, I mean, we’re already here.” 

\--

They pull up and park the car outside his house, in the middle of a cul-de-sac, and walk along the cobblestone, leading up to Richie’s door. Eddie can feel Mike’s facade slowly slipping as he starts to hum to himself. Mike only hums when he’s uncomfortable or anxious.

Eddie’s actually surprised that, aside from Bill’s blabbermouth and Mike’s obvious demeanor, there aren’t any indications that something else is going on. He expected more cars to be parked outside Richie’s house, or for one of them to leave something of theirs on his porch, but so far, nothing.

They knock and Maggie opens the door with a big smile like she always does. She has a comforting presence that makes Eddie feel right at home. He’s helped her with cooking and he thought she had a calming voice. She invites them in and tells them that Richie’s downstairs. They thank her and wave to Went who’s sitting in his chair, scribbling something on paper. The more days that pass, the more Eddie thinks Richie looks exactly like his parents.

The Tozier’s house always smells like Maggie’s baking something, which she usually is. Walking into their home, Eddie feels like he’s putting on a warm blanket. They have comfy couches and plushy carpets and yummy food and Richie. All good things.

They make the turn to walk downstairs and Eddie can see that the lights are off. He looks at Mike.

“He hangs out in complete darkness?”

“Well, I mean, it is Richie. I wouldn’t exactly put it past him. You’ve known him longer than I have, so does it see-”

“Okay weirdo, let's go.” Eddie chuckles, rolling his eyes and tugging on the sleeve of Mike’s shirt. They make their way down the stairs. Eddie’s memorized the creaks in Richie’s steps by now. The seventh one always creaks the loudest and there’s a crack in the last step, from the time Richie fell down the stairs. He was nine and he broke two fingers.

Reaching the basement floor, he turns and the only thing he can see is whatever the light from the kitchen illuminates. He can hear whispers coming from the darkness and it smells like birthday cake. He takes a breath, waiting for something to happen. Mike clears his throat, rather loudly, and then the lights flicker on.

“ _Surprise!_ ”

A big smile appears on Eddie’s face as his friends pop up from behind a big, L-shaped couch. Beverly blows a party horn with a drink in her hand and Bill laughs with three party hats balancing on his head. Eddie looks to Mike first, smiling, then to the rest of his friends. His eyes wander around the room; there are _Happy Birthday_ signs taped to the wall and streamers hanging on the doorframe. There’s a birthday cake sitting on the ping-pong table next to drinks and cups and a big box wrapped in pink. Richie runs over to Eddie, sweeping him off of his feet. Eddie starts laughing.

“Put me _down_ , asshole!” Eddie shouts, trying to sound serious but fails because he’s giggling.

“Nope! You’re seventeen, gotta lemme do this for seventeen seconds.” Richie teases while throwing Eddie over his shoulder, spinning him in a circle. Eddie’s used to Richie picking him up and swinging him around. He does it almost every day. Eddie pretends to find it annoying. He’ll roll his eyes or playfully shove him away, but he doesn’t actually mind when Richie holds his hand or tucks him into his shoulder. He’s usually wary of what other people are doing around him, but not Richie. It’s weird if he’s around Richie and he’s not touching him. It’s just a routine they’ve fallen into. If Richie sees Eddie, he’ll pinch his cheeks and call him _cute_ , if they’re sitting next to each other, their legs have to be touching. They’re _bus-seat buddies_ , they’re always partners in World History, and Eddie only ever sits next to Richie during scary movies. He makes him feel safe.

Ben walks behind Richie to give Eddie a big hug. They all tell him _happy birthday_ even though it isn’t _really_ his birthday, it’s only Saturday. But he doesn’t care. This is how he should celebrate. Not with his mother in the kitchen telling him how _cake is unhealthy for a growing boy, how about grapes instead?_

Eddie tried. He tried to make the most of what he was given at school. The principal said his name during the morning announcements, his friends all bought him cookies from the cafeteria, and a few people that weren’t his friends said happy birthday to him. But it’s still hard. It’s really hard for him. It’s hard to sit in front of somebody who’s done nothing but hurt and manipulate you, and pretend that you’re enjoying your evening with them. But he tries not to complain. And now, now that he’s with all his friends, his _people_ , his family, he’s finding it easy not to.

Once Richie finally puts him down, Stan hugs him, then Beverly hugs him, then Mike, then Bill, and then Richie does again. It’s a warm feeling, being with all of them. He can look into their eyes, smile at their beautiful faces, and tell himself that he’s _really_ happy.

They stand and they talk for a few moments and Eddie feels at peace. Then, Beverly takes his hand and leads him over to the couch. They all sit around him as Mike picks up the big box and sets it down in front of Eddie. He looks to Beverly, who’s still holding his hand, and just like Mike, she’s trying hard to cover up her obvious smile.

“We all pitched in. We hope you like it. Open it.” Stan says to him, softly, rubbing his shoulder. Eddie looks around at his friends one more time, trying to savor the moment, and they’re all looking back at him, anxious for him to open his present. So he lets go of Beverly’s hand for a second and rips into the wrapping paper. _(His mind takes note of the little sticky card on the corner that all his friends signed with hearts. “Happy Birthday Loser <3!!”) _All of the other presents he’s received from them have always been wrapped in newspaper or a crinkled, brown bag. Stan is the only one who actually knows how to wrap presents and make them look nice. But Eddie has never cared about his presents looking pretty. And he finds it amusing to think that Stan sat and watched the rest of his friends lose their minds over taping paper together like they were changing a baby.

It takes him a while to get past the copious amounts of tape. Maggie definitely didn’t wrap it, but it’s charming and Eddie loves it. He gets through all the tape and rips off the paper. Bill hands him a pair of scissors to cut through the cardboard box. Eddie flips it on its side and Mike tells him to be careful _because it’s fragile._ He stabs the box with his scissors and Beverly laughs, putting her hand on his knee. He cuts open the edges of the box, carefully flipping it on its head. Eddie starts to struggle with the flaps and Ben scoots up to help him. His friends are quiet around him. Richie’s tapping his foot against the hardwood floor.

Ben manages to open the flaps. Eddie looks over to Beverly again and she nods her head at his present with a pleasing grin on her face. _Open it, we’re fucking dying here_. He takes a deep breath and peers inside the box.

Oh yeah, okay, he’s going to fucking cry.

Inside the box, he sees seven little model trains in their own little boxes. Some of them are yellow, some blue, some red. It takes him a while to even comprehend what he’s looking at, but his eyes start to fill with tears. Seeing a present like that and being a stranger to him, it wouldn’t make sense as to why he’s so touched by it. But he’s brought it up before. His father, Frank, used to own collections of model trains. Dozens and dozens filled his office shelves. Each day, he would give Eddie a different one to play with, as he watched over him from behind his desk. Frank even had a little train whistle that four-year-old Eddie thought was really funny. His coworkers hated the noise, but he would turn it on every day just to hear his baby boy laugh. Eddie would sit on the office floor, playing with his father’s trains, making cute train noises, and his father would smile to himself.

Once in a while, Frank would let Eddie borrow a train to show his friend, Bill Denbrough. This was before he met Richie or Stan or Bev, Ben, or Mike. Before all of them, it was just Bill and Eddie. And Bill would listen to all of Eddie’s ramblings about trains. _(“Daddy told me this’is a 3296. ‘N this’is a ”mondel” of the “Orrr-ti-ent Express”. “Eddie...Innknow what that means.”)_ On Eddie’s fifth birthday, Frank bought him a more suitable toy train for his boy, one that whistled and lit up when you pressed a button. On the weekends, Frank would take some of his trains home and play with his son in the living room, while Sonia cooked dinner. Eddie’s tried his hardest to remember more of his father, but he keeps slipping away from him. 

That year Frank got sick, and then he got sicker, and then little Eddie Kaspbrak had to learn about mortality way before he should’ve. He doesn’t remember crying. He couldn’t grasp the situation. He didn’t understand the gravity of it. His mother and his family would only tell him that his _daddy wasn’t coming home._ Then some kid in Eddie’s kindergarten class told him that his _daddy went to heaven,_ and he finally understood why his mother fell asleep crying.

One day, when Mrs. Denbrough dropped him off at home, he walked in on his mother stuffing his father’s things in boxes. Eddie asked her what she was going to do with them. She couldn’t stand to look at his things anymore. She was going to give it all away. Eddie shook his head. He begged and cried to his mother not to throw away the trains, but she didn’t listen to him, and he couldn’t fight her on it. He was only five. She told him it wasn’t healthy to linger on bad feelings and that getting rid of Frank’s things was a good way to move on. But it didn’t feel good and Eddie went to his room crying. He didn’t come out for dinner. He sat on the floor and played with _his_ toy train.

Last year, he finally asked his mother what she really did with the trains. She turned off the television and looked up at him. She said she gave them to a family with young boys. Boys who would actually play with them. _There’s no reason for you to still wonder, dear. You’re far too old now anyway._ That was never the point, but he didn’t expect her to understand. He still keeps his little train on his bedside table. He’s managed to hide it away from his mother’s annual garage sales.

He’s talked to his friends about it before, but he never anticipated this. It takes him a few seconds to even open his mouth, but nothing comes out. He sniffles and a tear falls from his eye. Beverly takes her hand off of his knee and rests it on his back, trying to comfort him.

“There was this antique sale at city hall and Ben saw these trains. We all picked one out.” Mike says in a quiet, gentle voice. He looks again. They had all handwritten their names on one of the seven boxes, with little messages underneath.

“We know it’s not the same, but we were thinking that you could make some new memories. Ya know, with us.” Richie chimes in from his spot on the couch. Eddie looks over at him with teary eyes and smiles. His friends were his happy place. He loved them all and they all loved each other. Unlike his mother, they truly understood. And even when they didn’t, they’d never dismiss him and call him a _silly little boy. Silly little fragile boy._ They’d have his back and hold his hand through all of it.

Eddie laughs to himself and wipes his tears. “You...you guys didn’t have to do all this.” He knows it’s silly to say. They don’t do things for each other because they _have_ to, they do it because they _want_ to. They _want_ to give each other gifts, they _want_ to cheer each other up, they _want want want_. Ben doesn’t help Eddie with English because someone is forcing him to, he does it because he loves him. Mike isn’t secretly helping Eddie learn to drive because he has to, he’s doing it because he loves him. Beverly doesn’t go on movie dates with him because she has to, she does it because she loves him. Beverly loves Eddie, Eddie loves Bill, Bill loves Ben loves Stan loves Mike loves Richie. It was something his mother was terrified of--the unconditional love they had for one another. No expectations, no limits. 

Stan rubs his shoulder again. “You deserve it.” And it’s a fundamental truth. He deserves friends like these. Everyone does. His heart is so _full_ of them. It feels like a sunny day in the meadow; a breath of fresh air. It’s a love he’s not used to. It’s not murky water, it’s clear, crystal, and clean. It’s good.

“It was your idea?” Eddie asks, looking over to Ben. He smiles and glances at the others.

“It was all of ours.” He responds, his voice light and soft. Which means: _yes, but it would’ve been Mike’s if he wasn’t at the farm. It would’ve been Bev’s if she wasn’t helping her aunt with the grocery shopping. It would’ve been Bill’s if he wasn’t babysitting Georgie. It would’ve been Stan’s if he wasn’t out of town with his parents. It would’ve been Richie’s if he wasn’t with his mother in the garden. We all would’ve seen the trains and thought of you._

Right now, Richie’s basement is open and relaxed; a warm atmosphere, unlike the one he’s used to. It’s always cold in his house, even on hot summer days. But it could be freezing outside and as long as he was with his friends, Eddie would be none the wiser.

He studies his friends’ faces again. “I love you guys.” He says with his whole heart.

\--

When the clock clicks to 9 p.m., Eddie feels like going outside to lie down in Richie’s hammock. As much as he loves to watch Bev kick everyone’s ass at Mortal Combat over and over again, he really feels the need to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. But Mike’s fighting Beverly and Ben wants to watch his girlfriend win, and Bill’s comfy in the _big bean bag,_ eating too much cake, and Stan doesn’t like hammocks. So he puts down his ice cream bowl on the couch and asks Richie to go with him, once he comes out of the bathroom.

“Hey, wanna go outside with me? These losers seem to forget that it’s _my_ party.” Eddie asks, jokingly. _(“No baby, we looove you.” Bev responds, way too focused on smashing Mike’s character to the ground.)_ The basement light reflects off Richie’s glasses and there’s an expression that Eddie can’t quite read. Richie gives him a genuine smile.

“Yeah, ‘course my lover boy. _Yuh_ can coun’ on _meh_ to always be there _fore yuh_.” Richie says, throwing his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He knows Richie’s trying to do his British character, but he sounds more Scottish today. He leads Eddie out of the room. He picks up a ping-pong ball and chucks it over at Bill, disrupting him from the process of shoving more cake in his mouth.

Once they step outside through the sliding glass door that opens up to their yard, an immediate chill washes over Eddie’s body. It feels refreshing. Richie’s always had the biggest backyard. Here, they could play hide and seek and tag all day long. They could lay down their lives, let them sink into the grass, and enjoy the evening together, watching the sun go down. And closer to the back fence, they could jump as high as possible on Richie’s trampoline. It’s where Eddie spent most of the summer, apart from his room. They’d jump all day, closing the net around them from the outside world. They’d eat in there even if it was _disgusting and filled with germs, Eddie!_ And when it got dark, they’d lie down on the mat and look up at the stars. The wind would blow through Richie’s hair and Eddie would look at him and his heart would catch up with the wind.

Eddie stretches his arms up over his head, releasing the stress from his body after sitting in the same spot for over an hour. He takes in a big breath and then grabs Richie’s hand, pulling him over to the hammock.

Richie had gotten the idea to buy a hammock for his porch after the one in the clubhouse broke. Even though Ben was able to repair their clubhouse hammock, Richie still kept the one for his porch. The others insisted he did. It was a nice, calming accessory to the Tozier house.

Because of Richie’s recent growth spurt, he’s gained a few more inches on Eddie. _(“That’s not the only category I’m winning, regarding more inches-” “Richie, I swear to God.”)_ And because of this, they can’t sit opposite of each other in the hammock anymore. They have to squeeze in, side by side. And that’s not something that Eddie wants to complain about. So Eddie climbs in first and Richie follows, clearing his throat.

Eddie settles in the hammock, his right against Richie’s left. He turns to look at him. “You’re not gonna smoke anything?”

He’d gotten better about it the last few months, at least when Eddie was around. It worries him that Richie and Beverly smoke, regardless of his mother’s crude words. Maybe it’d be different if they were all adults, but Richie and Bev were still only 16. And Eddie was only five when he lost his father for similar reasons. Not to say he thinks the same thing will happen to them, but paranoia is something Eddie’s very familiar with. He just worries. And they know that, so they’ve tried to stop. But all Richie says is: “Nah hun. It’s your party.”

He smiles at him. “Thank you for that. By the way. And the present.” He’s truly never experienced a joy like this from opening a present. It’s going to be hard for anyone to beat. But The Losers are known for giving good gifts. Every birthday they pool up money and buy a present, and every Christmas or Hanukkah, they have a gift exchange. If Eddie’s being honest, every afternoon they spend together feels like a present from them to him and then to each other. He anticipates it just as much and it’s always worth the wait.

“Yeah, ‘course. I mean, it wasn’t just my idea.” Richie responds gesturing inside. Beverly’s cheers of victory can be heard through the walls. Luckily Eddie isn’t the one fighting against her, since they’re always the loudest and most competitive while playing video games.

“I knoooow,” Eddie laughs, mocking Richie’s humbleness. “I should still thank the host though, right?” Richie laughs too. He loves it when he can make Richie laugh.

“Yes. Yeah, you should. _Thank the host_ . _Kiss the cook._ It’s all the same to me, Eddie, my love.” Richie wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulder again, pulling him in. He smacks a wet kiss on Eddie’s cheek, obnoxiously. Eddie scoffs and giggles in the same breath. He pushes Richie away by moving in closer. It’s a jest. He’s joking. Eddie knows that he’s joking. And even though it’s just Richie being Richie, even though it’s something that Eddie is _very_ used to by now, his heart still races like it’s the first time. “Yeah, you wish.”

Eddie looks back at Richie and there’s a glossy look in his eyes. That same _something_ he saw before. Eddie still can’t place it. He’s been seeing that _something_ a lot recently. Richie just smiles again.

“Well, you deserve it. Especially after the birthday you probably had. At home, ya know.” His face is more solemn, now. They’re all aware of the _agreement_ , and they’re all aware of how Eddie’s mother acts. But the clock is ticking down to the day Eddie turns 18, and he’s free of his mother’s pseudo-security. Until then, they offer sleepovers and evenings at the quarry to pass the time.

“It was fine. Just...the usual.” He tries to respond casually, but it doesn’t translate. It just sounds sad. The usual? She picks him up from school, which she only does to make sure he actually comes home. She tells him to change out of his school clothes; _“Those aren’t appropriate for the house. I don’t want to hug my boy and his classmates!”_ She sits him down at the table, gives him a bowl of fruit, and acts like it’s dessert. She sits in the chair opposite of him and watches him eat. She doesn’t let him talk about his day, she only wants to talk about how “ _big you’re getting. My little baby boy’s growing up. But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t need his mommy. You’ll always need your mother, right Eddiebear?”_ She tells him to go to the living room. He opens his gifts in front of her. He smiles at the book _(that she only got because she’s reading it too)_ , the five dollars _(never enough to buy anything more than something from the corner store, she’s afraid he’ll save up and leave her)_ , and the bath salts _(which he’ll probably_ definitely _use)._ She makes him watch her shows with her, she falls asleep in her chair, and Eddie goes up to bed. And in between, there’s always little quilt-trips and some form of self-pity.

_“Aww, why don’t I give you a ride home every day? I think that would be good for us. For you. Rather than catching a ride from those friends of yours. Our car is definitely much cleaner. I know that.”_

_“Here you go, sweetie. This is much healthier for you than the food they serve you at school. You’re still only eating your greens, right? I’ve talked to the principal, Eddie. The lunch ladies are doing their part, you need to do yours.”_

_“Ugh, I miss days like this, don’t you? Too bad you’re always out with your friends. Watching my shows is never as fun when you’re with_ those _people. I just sit here and worry. I can never enjoy myself. Isn’t that sad? I always worry about you, Eddie.”_

So it drove him properly insane, and he spent that night curled up in a ball, crying into his pillow. But hey, that’s just--

“The usual? Right. Like... _‘Oh, Eddie! How could you possibly have friends who are so much better looking than I am?’_ ” Richie jokes. He pitches his voice up an octave and squeezes his eyebrows together, frowning. Eddie smiles.

“I mean, I always knew I was way out of her league.” He gestures to the sky. Eddie scoffs. “I will say though, the apple fell very far from the tree. You look more like you’re dad,” Eddie holds his stare for a moment. “You’re both a couple of hotties.”

Eddie exhales. “Alright, that’s my cue to leave.” He pushes his palms against the hammock, like he’s going to get up, but he’s still giggling. Richie wraps his right arm around his torso to stop him from leaving.

“ _Nonono_ , sorry, I’ll stop. I’m quiet now. What? You want me to say something genuine, something sincere?” Richie asks, theatrically. Eddie settles back into the crook of Richie’s arm. He’s done it a million times now, it’s a feeling he’s so familiar with.

“Think you can stomach it?” He asks with his eyebrow raised.

Instead of answering, Richie just grins and looks ahead, like he’s _actually_ thinking. Eddie knows that Richie is very capable of sincerity. He knows well enough that Richie can allow himself to be genuine rather than only communicating through sarcastic comments. He’s witnessed it a handful of times. There are nights where the two will sit in the back of Richie’s car, under a blanket, talking about plans for the future. Richie will look at him and Eddie will smile. He will rest his head on his shoulder and think _I could stay here forever._

The last time Eddie cried in front of Richie, it was over something his mother said, and he cried for twenty minutes. Richie held him the whole time. He ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He knew when to make Eddie laugh and when to hug him tight. And even when Eddie stopped crying, he sat still under the weight of Richie’s arms, breathing him in, letting the rest of the world fade away.

Richie turns back to Eddie, taking a deep breath. His eyes flit back and forth between Eddie’s. _Left. Right. Left. Right. Left._ He blinks four times behind his thick glasses. Richie switched to contacts last year, just for school. Eddie likes it both ways. He likes him any way he is. But Richie’s just not _Richie_ without his glasses, so he’s glad Richie still wears them around his friends.

The moon reflects off his lenses, just like basement light a few moments ago, and just like the sun when they’re lying out on the grass, and just like the television screen when Eddie is beating Richie video game after video game. _(Richie lets him win, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.)_

Richie opens his mouth for a few seconds, closes it, then opens it again. “I...I’m really glad that you’ve been in my life for the past ten years.” His voice is soft. He bites his lip. Eddie looks in his eyes for any ounce of hilarity or sarcasm, but there isn’t any. His whole body feels warm, even though the air is cool around them. Eddie smiles at him.

“Me too. Your house has always been such a safe place for me. And your parents--you. You’ve always been...so good to me. You’re always good to me.” Eddie means it, truly. All his friends--their homes have always been _safe_ to him. A place where he can unwind and not have to _worry worry worry_ if he’s doing something wrong. Especially Richie’s home. Maggie greets him from the living room, where he’s seen Richie’s parents laugh and love and dance together. He helps Maggie in the kitchen whenever he can. He eats breakfast at their table at least once a week, and spends time with his friends in the basement and backyard more often than that. He sits next to Richie on his bed, in his room, laughing at his jokes with the lamp on and the moon shining through the curtains.

Maggie goes out of her way, all the time, to make sure that Eddie knows he has a _place_ there, that he is always welcome. Any time. Went knows what happened to Eddie’s father. He looks out for him. He laughs with him at the kitchen table. He has real, genuine talks with him about his dreams and aspirations. And _Richie--well, there’s too much there._

_(“When we graduate, I’m shoving you in that passenger's seat and I’m taking you wherever I go. I promise you I’m not leaving you, okay. We are driving all the way to California. We are going to college together. We are going to get a pet turtle. And we are going to live happily ever after. You got that, Eds? And there is nothing that ol’ Mommy Dearest can do about it. I’m taking you where the sun shines the brightest and I’m gonna make you so happy.”)_

He’s looking at Eddie now, completely enamored. He clears his throat again, trying to gather up his thoughts. “Good. That’s good. I only ever want you to be happy. I’d do anything for you.” His voice softens more. Eddie _knows_ because Richie’s proven it time and time again. Richie has stayed up till 4 a.m., talking to Eddie, helping him through his cries and heartbreaks. Richie only has a smidge of an allowance, but he’s bought ice cream for him more times than Eddie can count on his fingers. Richie’s taken hours to help Eddie with his math homework, slowly walking him through it. 

He’ll hold his hand through a scary movie and kiss his cheek and make him feel safe. Richie makes Eddie feel _safe._

So Eddie looks deep into Richie’s eyes and says: “I know you would.” And the words hang there. They echo around them. The world implodes on them and suddenly it’s just _RichieAndEddie_ , sitting close together, in a hammock. Richie’s arm still wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him in. Their sides pressed up against each other. Only now is Eddie realizing how close Richie’s face is. _He is truly beautiful,_ his heart breathes. _Truly truly beautiful_. He can hear the wind whistling and the owls _hooting_ in the trees. He can feel Richie’s fingers playing with the fabric on his sweater. He can see Richie’s charlotte blue eyes looking back at him and he feels like he’s being devoured. It’s a feeling he’s completely unfamiliar with. This sense of _want_ coming from someone else. All the other times they’ve been _here,_ they were disrupted or Richie turned away. Eddie’s praying that he won’t. _Please don’t look away._

But Richie’s not. He’s looking at Eddie and only Eddie. Eddie feels like he’s eight years old and just learning to swim. Richie’s treading water next to him the whole time, encouraging him through his missing two front teeth. He feels like he’s nine and he’s crying from cutting his knee on the sidewalk after falling. Richie’s kissing it better. Eddie’s ten years old when he finally lets Richie push him on the swing. He laughs the whole time. He’s 11 and they’re sharing a milkshake at the diner. Richie’s teaching him that french fries go really well with ice cream. He’s 12, Richie’s kissing his cheek after calling him _cute_. He’s 13 and Richie’s picking flowers out of his mother's garden to give to him on Valentine’s day. He’s 14, Richie’s dancing with him in his bedroom, singing and laughing with him until his mother comes home. He’s 15 and Richie jokingly offers to be his first kiss, but Eddie says no because it _wouldn’t mean anything_ and _I want it to mean something_. He’s 16 and he’s starting to think it would mean something. He’s 17 and he’s raising his hand to cup Richie’s cheek.

Richie’s had freckles on his cheek as far back as Eddie can remember. His hair is curly now, though, and when they hug, Richie can rest his chin on the top of Eddie’s head. He likes to think that nothing has changed, and maybe nothing has. _Maybe I’ve always loved him. It just took ten years to figure it out._ But Eddie sees nothing wrong with _growing_ to love someone like Richie. It was easy. Easy as breathing. Time was all he needed. And if he’s being honest, he could stay like this forever. Close, tired, holding Richie’s face in his hands, drunk on the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. But it’s been _years_ for Richie too, and he wants _more_. More than just holding hands under the cup holders at the movie theater. More than just resting his head on Richie’s shoulder, ready to fall asleep. More than just that _look_ Richie gives him that he’s finally starting to understand.

So he leans in more and Richie inhales sharply, closing his eyes. _He’s waiting for me to kiss him._ And how rude would Eddie have to be to make him wait any longer? He brushes his thumb along his cheek, looking over Richie’s face again, savoring the moment. He takes one more breath and then closes his eyes.

He presses their lips together. Only for two seconds and then pulls away. Just a little; just enough for their faces to still touch, but not their lips. His fingertips feel like static and his body is on fire. They breathe together, heavy, sharing the moment as one person. Eddie’s not sure why he stopped, he’s not sure if this is even happening. But then Richie grips his sweater and breathes out his name.

_“Eddie.”_

And Eddie kisses him again.

It’s more purposeful, more confident. Like his body and his brain got tired of him _not_ kissing Richie. Like he was meant to be doing this all along. His ears start to ring as everything around them stops and freezes in time. The sounds of their friends coming from inside are lost now. The only thing Eddie can hear is Richie’s shaky breathing. His cheeks feel hot and his shoulders feel light. 

He can sense Richie’s hesitation like he’s not completely letting himself go. Like he’s having a conversation in his head, too stuck in his own mind. Like he’s nervous. And when Richie’s nervous he starts to joke, talking in miles, or he’ll sink into his headspace and block himself off from reality. And since Richie’s spent ten years telling himself that Eddie is _just a friend and nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you,_ it’s hard for him to digest what Eddie’s actually doing.

Eddie breaks apart again and Richie exhales through his nose, resting his forward against Eddie’s. He takes his hand off of Richie’s cheek and intertwines his fingers with Richie’s. He rubs his thumb on the back of Richie’s hand, “It’s okay, Rich. It’s okay.” Richie gasps and a sound comes from his throat like he heard what Eddie said and it _hurts_. He’s thinking it over in his head. If this isn’t what he wants and he pulls away, Eddie will pull away, too. If he stops, Eddie will let him go. His heart beats fast, waiting for time to quickly resume.

But Richie doesn’t pull away. He sniffles and then kisses him, _hard._ It’s desperate and aching, with all the urgency and passion of someone who’s craved this for a _very_ long time. Eddie sits up more and leans into it, and Richie releases their fingers, bringing his hand to hold the back of Eddie’s head. The warmth in Eddie’s chest travels down to his stomach and flutters around.

Kissing is not like he imagined _at all_ . He always pictured it being slippery and slimy and germy and gross. He never liked the sounds and never liked the pressure. But this is nothing like that because Richie is different. He lets Richie share food with him, he lets Richie hold his hand longer than anyone else, he lets Richie kiss him on the face every single day. The rules don’t apply to him. Kissing Richie is _different_ and _good_. 

And Richie kisses and kisses and kisses and _kisses_ him until Eddie’s sure there is nothing else left of him but the feeling in his chest and Richie’s lips against his. Eddie leans away to take a breath and he feels something wet against his cheek. He breaks apart and can see Richie’s face glistening, looking absolutely breathless and heavy with relief. Eddie’s heart aches. He uses his thumb to wipe the tears away and bumps his nose against Richie’s. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Richie smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong right now.” His voice is soft, whispering only for Eddie to hear. He laughs and pulls Richie in closer.

In front of them, Stan opens the sliding glass door, stepping out onto the porch. “Can one of you come beat Bev at this stupid fucking game? She’s getting too cocky.” He asks. Just by looking, Eddie can tell that Stan is completely _done_ with Beverly sticking her tongue out at him and Ben clapping every time she wins. Stan’s not really one for video games, he doesn’t enjoy how many button combinations there are to memorize. 

“Yeah yeah, I gotchya Stan the Man. What do ya say, Eds? Wanna watch me kick Bev’s ass?” Richie asks and his eyes look alive. Eddie smiles. His gaze flickers back and forth between Stan and Richie. The basement light peeks through the window, shining onto the wooden porch, and he can hear Mike’s favorite song coming from the stereo inside. There’s a _Game_ _Over_ chime that sets Bev off on a victory chant again and it causes Bill to laugh. Stan sighs and rolls his eyes. Eddie’s heart feels full.

“Yeah, I’ll watch you kick her ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> (this isn’t edited. (i wrote it really fast.))


End file.
